


A White Dress

by DragonBaby2559



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hopeful Ending, Hurt, Post-Canon, Warden Dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-14
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-10-18 16:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10620768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DragonBaby2559/pseuds/DragonBaby2559
Summary: This is set post-canon of Dragon Age: Origins where Alistair is speaking at the funeral for the Warden. He has to come to terms with her death and find a way to properly eulogize her.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this probably about 6 years ago. It's very short, and definitely not my best work, but I wasn't in the mood to rewrite it, so I just decided to post it right now. This is my first work that I have posted here, and I'm really nervous about it. I hope you enjoy!

“Alistair?”  
Her voice was clear and pure, like a crystal blue river. It was always like this. She knew how to use her voice to get different emotions out of different people. It came in handy more than once before.  
Now they were at camp. Seldom did they come back to camp. There was never time. The cities were bustling and she always stopped to help someone in need. And who am I kidding, everyone is in need.  
“Alistair? Where are you?”  
She came through the brush in her new dress. Leliana had taken her shopping in Denerim the last time we were there. She looked stunning. The dress was a simple white with no beading or stitching. Just white.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Alistair was sitting on the bench inside the castle. He would often think of her, but this was different. Now she was gone. He was supposed to talk at her funeral, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think of her being gone and to speak would prove she wasn’t coming back.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
“We need to talk.”  
She had almost appeared out of nowhere. The castle was so quiet her voice could have woken the dead from how loud it sounded.  
“You couldn’t sleep either, huh?”  
“No.” It was simple but telling.  
“What’s wrong?” He had asked the question so many times before, but this was different. This time, something was bothering her, and Alistair couldn’t help but feel a ball of anxiety well up in the pit of his stomach.  
“I just talked to Morrigan.”  
Her face was white. She looked like this only once before.  
“You look like you did back in the Gauntlet.” She had told him about her talk with her father. She was frightened. There were many reasons to be scared now, what with the new information on the Archdemon, but Alistair couldn’t figure out what had shaken her so much.  
“Yes, I bet I do.” She said with a tiny smile. Her face fell, and almost as quickly as the smile appeared, it had gone.  
“What happened?” This was a rhythm they had fallen into almost immediately after Ostagar. He knew that unless she was prompted, the love of his life would not talk to him. He tried again. “What has frightened you, my love?”  
She looked up from the spot on the floor she had so dutifully bored a hole into. She looked at him for no more than a few seconds before stifling a cry and turning away from him. As she retreated from his room, he heard a quiet but firm statement come from her.  
“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.” She paused at the frame of the door. He watched as she took a deep breath and turned her face to him. She smiled at him through the faint fog of tears in her eyes. He lived for her smile. She continued, “I’m sorry I troubled you. Go back to bed.”  
With this, she left Alistair’s room. She was in a white dress.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
Alistair wanted to go back to the way things used to be. Since she was gone, he had no want to be alone. He had lost all he had ever loved.  
He knew he had to speak at her funeral. He had come to terms with the fact over the past couple of hours. All he had to do now was grab the courage to do what had to be done.  
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________  
He walked up to her body. She was lying so still. It was almost like she was meant to not move. His heart lurched at the thought before he shooed the thought away. He just missed her so much.  
The day was coming to an end. This was her favorite time of day. She like the different shades of color that come with the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon.  
He stood in front of the crowd of people on the other side of the altar. They looked at him with varied expressions of sadness and anger. The tension in the air was palpable as the crowd slipped into a state of acceptance and eagerly awaited Alistair’s speech. Yet, looking at the people in front of him, he couldn’t find the words he had practiced. He couldn’t find a sliver of the speech he had written. It was lost. Like her.  
He found himself pushing down anger. Anger at the people in front of him. They had no right to be there. She was his. None of their companions had come; they decided to just let him burn by himself. He was angry at the archdemon who had taken her. He was angry at her.  
He stopped for a second at this thought and looked down at her. The anger dissipated and turned into overwhelming grief. He bit back the tears threatening to spill over, and took a deep breath to calm himself.  
Alistair got an idea at that moment. He silently said ‘thank you’ to the spirit he knew was watching him, cleared his throat and spoke in a voice that neither wavered nor cracked.  
“She wore a white dress.”


End file.
